Perhaps one of the most binding and most beneficial things in life is barriers. Fences act as a barrier to ensure privacy, safety, and comfort. However, fences also act as difficult obstructions to the paths one may want to choose. Whether metaphorically or physically, fences are an important and inevitable part of the lives of people across the world.

In my life, I have encountered many fences. When I was but three years old, my parents had a privacy fence built in our back yard. Often times, I would run around completely naked, so it served as a huge benefit to the eyes of my neighbors! The first day I had my driver’s license, I drove on highway 51 to go to school. Along the way, there was a fence between the eastbound and westbound lanes of traffic, which helped to ensure me that I would not be veering into opposing traffic. Perhaps one of the most important and prevalent fences in my life, however, is not a physical fence, but a metaphorical fence. That fence is the barrier that stands between myself and a medical education. Allow me to elaborate with a short story:

From the moment we stepped off the plane on the island of Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu, I was in extreme culture shock. I was amazed, for example, to see a beetle that had grown to what I concluded to be unnatural proportions, and confused by my visit to the local “grocery store,” which was merely a large tent with many tables holding a various assortment of local foods. Despite such differences, however, one thing remained the same – the humanity of the people. My group was there to minister to the natives, who lived lives of relative poverty, and the gratitude we received in return had a profound effect on me, reinforcing my sense of compassion for those in need and confirming that I had made the proper decision in choosing to pursue a career in medicine.
             By the fourth day of my journey, I felt that my group and I had already made a significant impact on the tiny island. We had provided comfort, fellowship, mentoring, and friendship to the natives, with whom we established strong personal bonds. I recall vividly one adolescent boy inviting a few friends and me to go and play a game with him, the object of which was to throw a large metal ball as close as possible to a stick in the ground. I was surprised to find myself enthralled by the simple game, which could have entertained me for hours, but the real enjoyment came from interacting with the boy and experiencing his culture firsthand. Soon, however, it was time to move on, and my group boarded the bus uncertain of where we were headed next.
             Our destination soon became clear, as we approached the facility where I had been taken just a few days earlier after breaking out in hives – the hospital. My first visit had been brief, but it had been readily apparent that this hospital was far different than any I had experienced back home. It lacked electricity and had no doors, merely openings in the concrete frame of the fly-ridden building. There was a squalid smell about it that I could not attribute any one source. Although I have since spent countless hours volunteering for Saint Francis, and as a Saint John employee, I have still not encountered anything that comes remotely close to this experience. As I stepped off the bus on my return visit, I attempted to prepare myself mentally for what I knew I was about to see.
             With conditions so poor, my colleagues and I redoubled our efforts to serve those in need, eagerly looking for anyone we could spend time with, cheer up, or help in some way. We visited many rooms, seeing a wide variety of patients who were medically able to accept us, from pregnant women to people with terrible pneumonia to those who were missing limbs. Their stories were both inspiring and heart-wrenching, and I can still recall the desire I had to remain with each of them until I had lived all of their experiences through their spoken recollection and could try to offer them empathy and compassion. In one room, we noticed a congregation of people surrounding a bed. We knocked quietly, told them who we were and why we were there, and asked permission to enter. They allowed us to come in, and what I saw immediately chilled me to the core of my soul.
             Upon the bed in the dimly lit room lay a motionless infant. I looked up at who I assumed to be the parents and noticed silent tears streaming down their faces. They explained to us that the woman had just given birth, and that the infant did not survive. I glanced back down at the bed, my head full of confusion and my heart full of grief. I tried to hide my despair, hoping that I would not further upset the parents, but I could not help but question why this child had not been given a chance to live like so many other children had. I had never wanted anything more strongly in my life than to make it right, to see these parents be able to take their happy and healthy newborn child home. Tears filled my eyes as I began to accept that there was nothing I could do for them but provide some small level of comfort. I reached over and hugged the mother, who began to cry on my shoulder. “This should not be happening,” I thought to myself. A short time later our bus departed, and as I sat there in somber silence I thought back to my own childhood and considered how lucky I was to have been born in a country where the practitioners of medicine are so highly skilled. I could only imagine how different the outcome of that day might have been had that infant had the access to the level of care that my family enjoyed.
             I think back on that day very often and hope that I was able to make some kind of impact on them, either through my prayers, my company, my hugs, or even my tears, and even though I will never see them again, they certainly made a profound impact on me. They, along with the rest of the Ni-Vanuatu people I was fortunate enough to encounter, instilled in me a renewed sense of purpose to attain my long-held dream of becoming a physician. Maintaining a good GPA, spending countless hours in the hospital, and participating in extracurricular activities have been important to my development as a student, but displaying compassion to a hurting family was critical to my development as a human being. I will make it my mission to carry this compassion into the medical field with me in every way possible, working hard to apply the knowledge and abilities I acquire to the service of those who need and deserve skilled and effective comfort and care.
             Upon my return from Vanuatu, I immediately began seeking opportunities to immerse myself in the medical community, and have continuously involved myself in various aspects of healthcare over the several subsequent years. These experiences have been both gratifying and educational, affording me invaluable insight into the realities of medicine. I have seen a vast number of patients with a diverse array of medical conditions, from life-threatening bacterial infections such as MRSA and VRE to severe cardiopulmonary complications to viral diseases such as AIDS and Hepatitis C. While I have learned a great deal about these and other conditions in the process, I have also gotten to know the people who were suffering from them, and while it is sometimes difficult to witness their hardships, the experience has only strengthened my determination to become a physician. The possibility of spending my life practicing medicine brings me an incredible sense of joy that I know I cannot achieve in any other facet of life.  I have no doubt that service to others is my life’s calling, and I believe that I possess the strength of character, the commitment to medicine, and the strong sense of compassion that will enable me to make a positive difference in the lives of people in need.